


Catch the Lightening in my Hand

by ShadowSpires



Category: Naruto, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton
Genre: Crossover, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 22:39:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7776445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowSpires/pseuds/ShadowSpires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jedi Master Senju Tobirama does not appreciate being dragged away from his mission by an urgent Force-summons. If this is Hashirama’s fault, again, he’ll throw him off the North tower, just watch.</p><p>He isn’t expecting the Force-summons to lead the Initiate floors of the Temple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch the Lightening in my Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [puzzle_shipper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/puzzle_shipper/gifts).



> Just a warning, I just reread Jude Watson’s first Jedi Apprentice book, and as a result, want to set Qui-Gon Jinn on fire.
> 
> My first time writing Tobirama, hopefully I have not mauled him too much.

Jedi Master Senju Tobirama sliced through the halls of the temple, not caring when initiates, Padawans, Knights, even fellow Masters scuttled out of his way.  
  
He was positively disheveled; robe tattered and streaked so heavily with soot and blood in a kaleidoscope of colors that the robe’s original hue could only be guessed at. Between his appearance and the fury in his presence he couldn’t be bothered to hide, he wasn’t surprised by the reactions of those around him.  
  
Neither was he concerned about the ruffled feathers of Temple bound Jedi who wouldn’t know a battlefield if they were dropped naked into the middle of one, and who’s notion of diplomacy was to stand at the sidelines and blather until someone deigned to listen to them.  
  
You didn’t achieve peace that way, you achieved it by **working** for it, by whatever means you had to.  
  
If the blasted Force was so insistent upon his arrival at the Temple this very day that it had pulled him away from his partner in the middle of a very important mission **it** could soothe the fragile sensibilities of those murmuring around him.  
  
Or the Force could have provided a better transport, where he could have at least washed the worst of the stains off.  
  
Since neither of those things seemed to have happened, it must be the Will of the Force, as the wizened old troll who was king of these narrow-minded, hide-bound fools was so fond of saying.  
  
Tobirama dismissed them from his mind and stalked further into the temple towards the bright light he could feel in his mind. It had been a faint pinprick, a persistent niggle in the Force to go back to the Temple, that refused to leave him alone no matter that they had only managed to bring hostilities to an end mere hours before, and had **weeks** of treaty negotiations ahead of them.  
  
No, he must leave **right then,** blast it all to hell and back. Kagami was entirely capable of completing this mission without him, but Sith take it all, they were partners. You did not abandon your partner in the middle of a mission.  
  
This had better be good.  
  
The light of possibility had blazed into his perception the second the creaky old freighter he’d bartered transport on had dropped out of hyperspace above Coruscant. It whispered to him of promise, and potential, and no little amount of the same feeling he got when Hashirama was about to do something idiotic.  
  
Tobirama had spent most of his formative years chasing down that feeling and digging his brother out of scrapes he should have known better than to get into; from hiding from the creche master after lights out, to digging him out of a full scale war he was trying to end on the basis of idealism alone.  
  
He hoped that feeling was the result of someone else’s stupid decision making this time, or he was going to throw Hashirama off the North Tower, just see if he didn’t.  
  
The Force was flashing a beacon brightly at him, pulsing with urgency, and he snarled under his breath when the lift took too long to arrive.  
  
He might normally care, that his usual calm composure was so fractured. He might even care the moment he got back to his partner and could make sure he hadn’t left Kagami to get himself killed in the middle of a renewed civil war.  
  
He did not particularly care right now, as his fierce glare convinced the other Knight waiting for the lift that he actually wanted to catch the next one.  
  
He blindly punched in a level, then blinked at the light on the button for the initiate training levels.  
  
He glared the innocently blinking floor indicator as the lift slowly rose. What in seven kriffing hells could be in the Temple’s initiate training floors that the Force would have dragged him across half the Galaxy for?  
  
The lift dinged cheerfully as the doors opened, and Tobirama cursed under his breath when the Force prodded him forward.  
  
He paused and took a deep breath. Kagami would be fine, and so would the mission. Whatever the Force wanted of him, it had to be important. He released the breath and with it, released his fury and frustration to the Force, siphoning them away until only calm composure remained. He may not care about upsetting those who were scared of a little blood, but he would not face the fire-bright light of possibility that was calling to him while he was so imbalanced.  
  
Steady and settled once more, he moved forward towards the training salle, getting wide eyed looks from the gathered initiates, startled or disapproving stares from Training Masters at his apparel, and a surprised, inquiring look from Master Yoda — the troll in question. Huh. He wished vaguely for a holorecorder. It wasn’t often you saw Master Yoda surprised.  
  
Tobirama ignored the first two and dipped a shallow bow to the Grandmaster of the Order. No matter that they may not agree on many things, he did respect the Master’s age and wisdom; no matter how rarely he seemed to employ it.  
  
Red eyes swept the arena, assessing. This was the end of an exhibition match, from the looks of it. The stands were just dispersing, lingering attention on the door to the dressing room where the two combatants would have vanished, except for the portion of attention focused on— Ah. Of course. For all the Grandmaster was supposed to be above favoritism, he did like to pay special attention to those of his own lineage.  
  
Tobirama took several long strides towards the Grandmaster and his Grandpadawan, just as Jinn separated from the Grandmaster and headed towards the dressing room.  
  
“Jinn,” he acknowledged, passing the taller Jedi, but refusing to tip his head up to look at him. He let his lip curl up slightly at the ire that rose suddenly in Jinn’s eyes as he registered the subtle insult. He would not call him “Master Jinn” for, despite the Council’s decision otherwise, Tobirama did not think he deserved the title. His first apprentice had barely needed further training, and his ascension to Knighthood could not therefore be credited to Jinn. As for his second…Ciron’s Fall had been blindingly obvious to anyone around him, but Jinn refused to see, which said little for his Mastery of Self.  
  
“Master Senju,” Jinn murmured tightly, continuing on his way at Tobirama reached Yoda.    
  
“Master Yoda,” the white haired Master greeted evenly.  
  
“Master Senju. Unexpected, you are. To Bevin III, were you and Knight Uchiha assigned,” the Master pointed out, with a pointed look at the bloodstained armor Tobirama wore; non-standard but not unfamiliar, though unusually covered in blood. “A war to stop, have you.”  
  
“Stopped a war, I have,” Tobirama responded mildly enough not to come across as mocking.  
  
Just.  
  
Diplomacy, damn it, he actually was good at it, no matter how close to the surface his temper was running at the moment, between having abandoned his partner in an unstable situation, and the insistent prodding of the Force against his nerves.  
  
“Knight Uchiha has the situation on Bevin well in hand, and I will be returning there shortly. The details will be in our report when we return at the end of the peace talks that should be beginning today. For now, it seems that I am exactly where the Force wills me to be.” Frankly, Tobirama **adored** that argument, because there was really nothing anyone could do about it.  
  
And it had the added benefit of being true.  
  
This time.  
  
Yoda hummed disapprovingly at him, but Tobirama was used to that, frankly, since he’d snuck out of the Temple at twelve years old to find a tattoo artist who would give him the traditional markings he would have received at that age from his clan on his home world. The Initiate Masters had been less than impressed at the three thin red lines now adorning his face, but hadn’t been able to do anything about it.  
  
“What has just occurred here, Master Yoda?” Tobirama asked, hating to have to ask, but he didn’t have the time to do the research necessary.  
  
“Initiates Kenobi and Chun, an exhibition match, completed they have,” Yoda said, and then fell silent.  
  
Tight lipped old manipulative troll. He was up to something, all right. He never normally passed up the opportunity to listen to himself talk.  
  
Fine. Tobirama bowed shallowly again, and moved to access the monitor droid who had recorded the match. Yoda did not stop him, turning away and leaving with the last of the gathered spectators.  
  
Two humanoid initiates, both looking near aging out, fought on the little screen. Tobirama watched the match at half speed, taking in the way the initiates moved, the flare of anger and hate in the young boy with the white hair. The faint threads of desperation that unbalanced and undermined the determination and calculation in the red haired boy’s eyes.  
  
Both boys were very skilled, but only one of them took initiative, thought outside the box he’d been raised in his entire life, and took a risk of stepping out of his accustomed place to gain a possible reward.  
  
Interesting. So very much potential there, ready to be shaped by a skilled Master —  
  
The Force sang with rightness at the thought.  
  
Oh, kriff no.  
  
He glared the innocently blinking ‘replay recording?’ message on the screen.  
  
No.  
  
Absolutely not. He’d sworn after Hiruzen that it would be at least a decade before he took another Padawan. To give his nerves time to recover, Kagami had said, laughing. He would show Kagami his own nerves one by one if the younger man kept insinuating he was getting old.  
  
He was not taking another Padawan however, not even to prove his partner wrong.  
  
Raised voices caught his attention from the other room, a young voice, raised in desperation. Tobirama bristled at that, forgetting in an instant anything but his conviction that no child should be forced to sound like that, especially not here in the Temple. For all it’s flaws, for all Tobirama desperately wanted to shake it down to it’s bones for how desperately **inefficient** it all was, the Temple was supposed to be a safe place for Jedi, especially the children who were their future.  He was already stalking forward, hand on the hilt of his lightsaber when Jinn swept out of the room, heading towards Tobirama with a cloud of uncertainty and guilt and fear practically radiating from him.  
  
‘Master Jinn’ indeed. Tobirama may have been letting his fury have reign earlier, but he had been very much aware of it. He doubted Jinn was aware of this at all.  
  
If he was reading this situation rightly, the man was at this moment so far from a controlled understanding of himself and the Force he was supposedly such a master of, that he couldn’t hear it practically screaming at him.  
  
Screaming about the dejected boy in the initiate robes standing behind Jinn, looking like his world had come to an end.  
  
The boy couldn’t see him yet, through the door that stayed open at Jinn’s exit, and Tobirama paused his forward motion for a moment to study him as Jinn approached him.  
  
As he watched, the boy recovered himself with startling grace from what must have seemed like the shattering of lifelong dreams. He steeled himself, eyes crystalizing around sorrow, lifted his chin, and turned to grab the bags on the nearby bench.  
  
Their was a storm in that boy’s soul, strong and powerful; fierce sunlight over still water, fire and an ocean’s depth at the same time.  
  
Oh yes, Tobirama could work with that; could nurture and mold it until it was a force of nature; leashed when necessary, or directed at whatever he set his mind to.  
  
Oh.  
  
That little feeling of “Hashirama is doing something stupid”? That was the siren song of his own bad decision making about to happen.  
  
Kagami was going to laugh at him for **years** about this.  
  
That was fine.  
  
*Tobirama* was not a fool, to let that much potential be squandered.  
  
Besides, Kagami would only be laughing until he realized that Tobirama had essentially suckered him into being a second Master for the boy. It would be good for the younger Knight, and maybe get him past whatever mental block meant he’d never taken a Padawan. Tobirama knew that Kagami shared his conviction about how important the training of the young ones was, but seemed hesitant to take his own. This would be good for him.  
  
Hiruzen, on the other hand, would probably try to adopt the boy himself, Tobirama was already declaring that he was not allowed to meet Mito for at least ten years, and Hashirama would doubtless try to steal him.  
  
Too late. This boy was **his** now.  
  
“Esteemed Master Jinn,” he purred, as Jinn drew level with him. He wouldn’t call him Master Jinn, anyway, except when an opportunity like this arose to make it the prefect insult. “Have you just rejected that extremely promising initiate?”  
  
“Promising?” Jinn asked in what was obviously supposed to be a firm, scolding tone, like Tobirama was a youngling himself, to be taught a lesson. “Is that what you call fighting with so much anger?”  
  
Tobirama enjoyed a battle of wits and words as much as he did one of blades, but it was simply not any fun when your opponent was already so off balance. Jinn was nearly radiating uncertainty into the Force, echoing back along the tiny thread of potential Tobirama could just sense that extended between him and the boy who was even now growing more distant.  
  
If he were a better person, he might back off, or might use his words to lance Jinn’s pain, encourage him to take the boy, which might very well be why the Force dragged him here, after all. He could do it. For all Jinn is touted for his diplomatic skills, Tobirama has seen precious little evidence of them. He is better, and he knows it. He could do it, were he so inclined.  
  
He is not. Will not. Jinn might eventually be persuaded to take the boy, but he would forever remember that it was not the ‘Master’s’ first decision.  
  
No child deserved that, let alone one who shone so brightly.  
  
So he just smiled at the the man, a baring of teeth that Hashirama swore could freeze a man’s blood, doing a quick mental calculation.  
  
“How very unfortunate for you, and fortunate for me, then,” the white haired Jedi Master continued, as if Jinn had never spoken, voice shading subtly into the disapproving cadence of Master Kinja, who would have been Creche Master when Jinn was a child. “The Force has been singing praises about this Initiate since I set foot on the planet.”  
  
He took great pleasure of Jinn’s instinctive flush at that tone, but didn’t even wait to see if he would recover before sweeping away. There was no need at this moment to tell Jinn that the Force had called him all the way from Bevin to correct this burgeoning mistake. He’d save that for the next time he really needed the dig.  
  
He stalked after that flare-bright light in his mind, after the thread of possibility that would turn into a training bond if the Initiate accepted him.  
  
It was a good thing the boy was apparently already packed to leave, if the bags and the path towards the landing platform was any indication, no matter how much that explained of his desperation in the fight. Or how much it made Tobirama want to scream himself hoarse at the Council about their training methods, and the ridiculousness of the Code’s restriction of one Master to one Padawan, and how quickly it was shrinking their numbers, couldn’t they **see?**  
  
He couldn’t start that fight with the Council right now, though. If Tobirama didn’t get back soon, his partner and bond-mate was going to inevitably get himself into trouble.  
  
It wasn’t proper, to take a young Padawan into the field so soon, but Jedi grew up fast. It was a reality of their life, and it would be worse to leave this brilliant potential to squander under an inept master, or be sent from the Temple, never to be a Knight.  
  
The other paths in the Jedi Corps were honorable ones as well, but they were not for this one. The Will of Fire burned too strongly in him to let him settle into a life of farming, and while he might make a brilliant Healer, if that was what he chose, Tobirama did not think that would be right for him.  
  
He caught up with the child’s determined stride just outside one of the meditation gardens. For all the boy had a head start, and was large for his age, Tobirama still had almost half again his own height on him, and much longer legs. He opened his mouth to call the boy’s name, and realized with a touch of chagrin that he didn’t know it.  
  
Still, there were only two option, and he let the Force guide him again, knowing it would not lead him astray.   

“Initiate Kenobi, a moment of your time, if you please.” 


End file.
